Ever felt like Crying, Ever felt like Flying?
by HProo-bear
Summary: Ending up at the edge of the end is scary. But it's also oddly thrilling.Ron hasnt changed and he never will. When his behaviour becomes too arrogant to handle, Hermione ends up facing the biggest decision of her life. Wether to end it. Warning! Mentions of Suicidal Attempt, Do not read if this is an issue.
1. Chapter 1 - Just an Introduction

Ever felt like crying? Ever felt like laughing? Ever felt like punching someone until they cant even remember who they are? These are pretty normal reactions to situations right? What if they weren't? What if they were all wrong, all bad, all scary and all confusing. What if something that should have made you happy, ended up pushing you to the edge of a bridge. What if it drove you to staring down the dark abyss leading to a freezing cold current of Baltic water. Water that would kill you almost instantly, if not on impact from the jump off the bridge. Then the chances are your Hermione Granger and Ronald Billius Weasley is a Git.


	2. Chapter 2 - Were did this begin?

Cooking Dinner. The simplest task in the world, and a task that was essential to a good, peacefull evening in the Weasley household. If you miss dinner, you end up with a grumpy git in your bed that night. And that never makes for a good nights sleep.

Sliding the Chicken out of the oven just as her husband of three years apparated into their kitchen, Hermione couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret. That could have, should have been her. She had long ago given up her dreams of becoming a healer. She had been thrown offers left right and center to work at top institues of medicicine. She'd been damn near close to taking one aswell, until Ron found out. Ron who didn't want to move. Ron who didn't want his wife being ogled by handsome healers and such in a hospital. Ron who was now sitting expectantly at the table for his dinner.

"Good day at work Ronald?" Hermione asked. Never voicing her opinions. Never voicing her mind. The fiery, strong willed woman was gone. She disappeared when she said 'I do'. You could never argue with Ron. He would just storm out. Then you would be the bad guy. None would listen. No one would believe your side. Ron would win. Why put in the effort.

Whilst they were eating, Hermione sat and looked into her husbands face. Sometimes, just sometimes she would feel like saying something, but fear would always get in the way. Fear would glare down at her, laughing at her stupidity. Her stupidity for thinking Ron would change once they left Hogwarts, he would become kinder, less argumentivive. Hermione honestly believed that she loved him once. That had ended along time ago. But she was stuck now. No leaving. No divorce. She would never do that. Never face that shame. She wouldn't be able to handle it.

_Standing at the edge of the bridge, hands clammy and her breathing shallow, Hermione Granger began to understand. Theres no shame in giving up. Maybe that's the easiest way to end things. Give up. Thinking back to that night when her resentment began to become too much to handle, began to turn into something darker, uglier, Hermione realised it had only taken two words to break her. Two little words. 'I Do.'_


	3. Chapter 3 - The Past is beatifull

The livingroom was dark, but peaceful. Her imagination had taken her away to a time years before. She was huddled in a tent, Ron and Harry were talking, plotting. Not realising she was awake. Never thinking to check. Thinking back to their words that night Hermione couldn't help but let one small tear cut a track down her smooth cheek. That was the first night she had finally succumbed to her feelings for Ron. The first night she felt he may feel the same way. His kind words about her, his passing compliments. Harry agreeing but in a brotherly fashion.

Hermione slowly opened her eyes slowly. She was smiling. Properly smiling for the first time in months. Years really. Now she was walking down Memory Lane she didn't want to leave. She thought back to her first year at Hogwarts, then the second, then the third and so on. She remembered the good times, the bad times. The death defying moments and the moments filled with Hilarity. She was content. Peaceful. For a brief moment she remembered who she used to be. Who she wanted to be. The person she was somewhere very deep down. Then she heard Ron moving upstairs and her happy bubble popped.

Never had she felt this sad before. Not even when Fred died, or Remus or Tonks. Or indeed she failed to retrace her parents after the War. Even then she had been able to focus on the silver lining ahead. Look toward the future. Feel some sort of hope. But not now. Now she could only see a dark endless tunnel. A tunnel shrouded by all the fears and worries that seemed to have possessed her. That more than anything scared her. The fact she could no longer look ahead.

Ron seemed to have risen from their bed, and now Hermione could hear him trudging down the stairs sleepily.

"Come on 'Mione! It's half 3 in the morning, get back to bloody bed!" He grumbled his flaming red hair tousled. That hair. The hair that first caught Hermione's eye on the Hogwarts express all those years ago.

"I'll just be up Ronald. Go back to bed." She soothed him, placing a half hearted kiss on his cheek before guiding him to the stairs. Truthfully she had no intention of returning to bed. Ever.

_The wind was picking up around her. Her brown hair whipping around her face and cars speeding behind her. Noone noticed her. She made sure of that. A dissalusment charm had taken care of that. It would lift when she passed. Not before. Her eyes were no longer wet from tears, nor were her hands shaky or sweaty. Indeed all her quams seemed to have left her as she thought back to that last night at home. The last night she felt trapped. Indeed standing on the railing, her eyes looking into the light at the end of the seemingly endless tunnel below, she had never felt from free. Her life was in her own hands now. No-one elses. Simple decision really. So then, Why was she still hanging on?_


	4. Chapter 4 - Such a cowardly little Lion

Ron had awoken that morning to find the space next to him empty. Cold. Hermione had never come up to bed, and this annoyed Ron. Why not?

As he rose from the bed, the springs creaking, and trudged down the stairs something felt off. The house felt odd. Cold, empty. The usual smell of cooking foods, or the sound of Hermione rustling the pages of one book or another were all missing. The dejected Gryffindor wandered around the house, searching in vain for his missing flower. Were was she? Realising she was no where to be found he slumped against the wall, his head in his hands.

Hermione was wandering. Lost. Lost in the world, lost in her mind, lost in her soul. She didn't know how to find her way back, and she didn't know if she wanted to. All she knew was that she had to keep walking. Find somewhere. Something to distract her.

This was how she found herself in that bar. In that seat. On that night.

She had been drinking heavily, trying to do what many had done after the war. Drown their sorrows, drink away the worries, the memories. The feelings of being human. She heard someone slide into the seat next to her, but paid no attention to them. Then she heard a voice speaking to her, seemingly for far away. As she focused properly, she realised the stranger next to her was speaking to her. Touching her leg. Suddenly she leapt to her feet. She spilled her drink, dropped her glass and almost threw the startled stranger off his stool.

As she calmed down, she realised he had only been asking if she was ok. Nothing more. Had Ronald completely obliterated her sense of trust, security. Now she felt as though she could trust no one to have other motives than just being friendly. Concerned. Showing the good left in humanity.

No, now all she could see were alterior motives, dark scenarios. Danger. Mistrust.

Her eyes suddenly glistening with tears she had fled from the bar, before breaking down on a street corner.

Now she felt more alone than ever. She had no where to go. No hope. No little ball of light left. She was dark. Empty. Her emotions ever changing. Never for the better. If only a dementor would come along now, she had thought bitterly. Put her out of this misery for ever. Just take her soul, what was left of it. She had no need for it any longer. It only caused her more pain. Then she had broken down in tears , harder than ever, and she remained on that cobbled street for hours, never moving. Stuck in a never changing state of depression.

_Hermione begun to back away from the edge again. She was a coward after all. She was afraid to jump. Afraid to feel more pain. Afraid it wouldn't work._

_As she thought back to that dark night, she covered her mouth and began to cry slightly. _

_Everyone always said, what doesn't kill us makes us stronger. They were wrong. They were fools._

_What hadn't killed Hermione had left her fatally wounded. Ever bleeding. She was dying, but slowly. Painfully._

_But now she was there. She had the opportunity for the easy option out. For a chance at freedom. _

_Still she stood back from the edge. This wasn't something they taught you about. The dark, scary hole left after trauma. After giving up all your fight. _

_She had always been brave. She had been forced to be. Now though, she couldn't be._

_The shadows had finally killed her light, her spark. How could she be brave, if she could barely live?_


End file.
